


If you say you will marry me.

by pseudofoucault333



Series: Fei writes for Tumblr [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advice, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Diogenes Club, Established Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Matchmaker Sherlock, Meeting the Parents, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson, Relationship Advice, Smoking, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofoucault333/pseuds/pseudofoucault333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Mycroft have been together for so long under trying circumstances but this will finally be Greg's first Christmas with the Holmes. Never could he have imagined the question that Mycroft had been building up to ask him for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you say you will marry me.

**Title:** If you say you will marry me.  
**Author:** Redtintedhale // Pseudofoucault333  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:** Mycroft/Lestrade, Sherlock/John  
**POV:** 3rd.  
**Summary:** Greg and Mycroft have been together for so long under trying circumstances but this will finally be Greg's first Christmas with the Holmes. Never could he have imagined the question that Mycroft had been building up to ask him for so long.  
**Disclaimer:** Sherlock is © to Sir Arthur Connan Doyle and the brilliance of Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffatt who brought it to my TV Screen, don’t sue because the contents of my bank account is practically empty at the moment. Also and I can't stress this enough I don't give permission for this or any other of my stuff to be reposted on Goodreads or anywhere else. If I find out it is I'll be pissed. Plot mostly based on fiction…i.e not real...but a girl can wish <3 Title © Neil Diamond.  
**Author Notes:** Unbeta'd Written for [SherlockSecretSanta](http://sherlocksecretsanta.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for the amazing [Lucia](http://mitarashi8.tumblr.com) Comments and Kudos = pwp and cookies :D 

It was the first year that Greg had actually been invited for Christmas with the whole of the Holmes family, instead of just being invited to a secure hotel room with Mycroft and Mycroft alone to make up for their late nights and overtime. Though it wasn’t really a surprise to anyone since it was common knowledge, despite how they had tried to keep it secret (thank you very much Sherlock!) that things between him and Mycroft were getting serious. 

It was close to five years since Mycroft had bumped into Greg at a crime scene, where his brother had been running rampant with a series of babble that made no sense and had him in cuffs even when he name dropped the elder Holmes’ name like it should mean something. By the time he arrived Sherlock was locked in the back of a panda car, with two PCs at the doors to make sure he didn’t hurt himself even if it agitated Sherlock more to the point the car was rocking back and forth dangerously.

“Are you Detective inspector Lestrade?” a posh yet melodic voice asked while Greg was trying to stop Sally and Anderson from being at the other’s throats. But the sound of his title being used when everyone else would have just addressed him as Lestrade had him zoning out on the pair and turning his attention to the other man.

What he’d seen had him freezing as his gaze took in an Italian suit covering the form of a man the same age if not a bit older than him. He had his eyebrow raised at Greg’s silence and was fidgeting with an umbrella which he didn’t even need since it was the middle of July in a heat wave. It was the sight of the woman beside him clicking away on a blackberry that reminded him he was a senior officer in the middle of a crime scene not a guy in a pub.

“Yes, sorry, yeah I’m DI Lestrade,” He stuttered, watching a sly smile quirk at the corners of the other man’s lips.

“Excellent, I was told a DI Lestrade was holding my brother for obstructing an investigation by trespassing on a crime scene. An officer called and said my brother mentioned me,” The other man said pointing his umbrella at the car holding an erratic Sherlock, causing Greg to swallow.

“You’re Mycroft Holmes?” Greg asked, a sense of dread settling in his stomach. Arresting the brother of the guy he would have asked out for coffee on any other occasion wasn’t conducive to a yes.

“Correct, now if you could remove my brother from that car I’ll gladly take him off your hands for you,” Mycroft said, setting the object back to rights so the end was tapping against the floor.

“I can’t do that Mr Holmes. He’s being held under caution,” Greg said, though watched Mycroft’s expression go blank as he turned to the woman beside him who handed him something from her pocket.

“I can do that DI Lestrade because _this_ …” Mycroft opened the badge in his hand and showed it to Greg pointedly, “…says so. Now if you would be so kind.” 

Greg let his gaze move over the badge, paling a little when he saw the high security clearance and the fact that Mycroft was so out of his league it was ridiculous. But he did have the clearance to overrule Greg’s caution so looks like he had no choice.

With a sigh Greg turned to the PC guarded cars and whistled at them shrilly, jerking his head when one of them caught his eye and watching them unlock the car, opening the door to extricate Sherlock from the inside.

“Thank you very much DI Lestrade,” Mycroft said formally as the PC frogmarched Sherlock over to the two of them holding him by his still cuffed wrists. Greg uncuffed him and pushed both cuffs and keys into his pocket as he watched Mycroft grab Sherlock by the coat collar and drag him off site, the younger of the two still yammering restlessly while the woman with the blackberry followed the brothers.

Soon a black unmarked car appeared and all three disappeared inside, leaving Greg wondering what the hell had just happened. Yet a more traitorous part wondered if he would ever see the man with the umbrella again.

Things between the two had taken time to develop as every time they met Sherlock was the sole factor, either doing something wrong like sneaking on yet another crime scene and spewing advice that no-one else believed. Or as was more often the case he was badgering Lestrade to let him get more involved in the cases. He kept calling himself a consulting detective and insulting the met in the same breath like he was sure that was going to make Greg and his superiors change his mind.

But each time he saw Mycroft, Greg would find the urge to ask him out itching on his lips. Revel in the sight of the other man’s smile, start to catalogue his suits according to if he’d been in a meeting or if Sherlock’s use of his brother’s power was starting to interrupt his work. He started to question if the PA was really that helpful and if there was something more between her and the other man which was just grasping at straws. But he also began to wonder if he was bi, gay or something where he stood a chance.

After another occasion of Sherlock getting on his bad side at a crime scene and demanding to be let into the loop, Greg sat at his desk as he supervised Sherlock’s read through of the casefile so far for anything interesting; worried that if he didn’t a vital piece might disappear and he miss an epiphany that might solve it. Because that was the thing with Sherlock, if he came up with something you damn well better listen for the sake of your career if nothing else.

“You know pining isn’t a good look on you Lestrade,” Sherlock quipped from behind the file, Greg frowning from behind the game of chess he was losing to his computer.

“What’s that supposed to mean Sherlock? I’m not pining,” Greg said, though he knew he was falling into Sherlock’s trap. Which soon enough was proven right when the other man rambled about how he’d been subconsciously dressing better in anticipation of seeing Mycroft and looking all forlorn when Sherlock turned up but his brother didn’t. How Greg’s gaze would only ever leave Sherlock if Mycroft was around and his fingers would clench around his phone like he was battling with himself to ask for the other man’s number. It was simple little things that made Greg flush under his collar.

“And what’s the point of your tirade exactly? So I’m interested in your brother, so what? Nothing will come of it and I’ll move on,” Greg shrugged; giving up on his chess game and closing the window at the same time Sherlock finally closed the case file and threw the manila folder on to his desk with a look of disinterest.

“My point, Lestrade, is that all this behaviour is not one sided. I’ve been around my brother enough to be able to tell when he’s preening at the attention of a new romantic partner. That would be you, by the way, so I fail to understand why neither of you says something. It’s not the be all or end all if he says no,” Sherlock sighed, pushing the chair he was sitting in back on to two legs so his feet were balancing from the edge of the desk precariously.

“Would you stop that?! You obviously don’t understand what the concept of being turned down can do for a relationship between two people. Whether he feels the same or not until one of us makes a move it means nothing. Now, let’s get you out of here before Mycroft asks where you are,” Greg huffed, getting to his feet and grabbing Sherlock roughly by the arm. It gave the other man enough of a shock that he fell forward on to all four legs and got to his feet with a disgruntled look.

“The sooner you and Mycroft get together the better,” Sherlock grumbled, pulling his phone out his coat pocket as he led the way out the office with Greg reluctantly bringing up the rear.

It was a couple more times of only seeing Mycroft in passing; when they crossed paths or exchanged Sherlock which the younger man was getting annoyed about claiming that he didn’t need a handler. Though previous events said otherwise. But one night Greg was laid on the couch immersed in paperwork while Match of the Day was playing in the background; it was the nearest he was ever going to get to a football match. He had just reached for the piles of paperwork from subordinate officers to sign off for the clerical staff in the morning when he heard the sound of his phone’s text alert, causing him to sigh.

He never got many texts, whether from the ex wife or Donovan and Sally he was always called to discuss things or in the case of his ex be yelled things down the phone. Sherlock was the only one who ever texted him, which had seen him regretting giving the younger Holmes his number in the first place. Admittedly it had been his way of hoping Sherlock would slip it to his elder brother, but he was sure if Mycroft had wanted his number he would have a found a way to access it by now.

Greg put the piles of paperwork on the coffee table according to those that had been done and those that still needed doing before reaching for the phone just as the theme song began to play. Brilliant. The text from Sherlock wasn’t his usual short and to the point, but a jumbled mass of descriptions, directions and an address to meet him at in an hour. 

“Looks like I’m on a wild goose chase tonight then,” Greg murmured to himself, turning the TV off by the remote and grabbed his keys.

He ended up sitting in his car in a spot by the Thames, close to what remained of the docks which seemed to be humming with activity despite the hour. It was usually where the criminal underworld would meet and greet, something that saw him avoiding the place unless he was on a raid with warrant in hand. Still he leaned back in his seat, taking the odd glance at his phone as he waited for Sherlock’s next text or out the windscreen to make sure no-one else spotted him.

Soon enough an unmarked black car parked up behind him, which had Greg swallowing, as he watched one of the back doors open and Mycroft slid out unaccompanied by his PA. He wasn’t dressed in his usual suit get up but the kind of clothes that someone would grab if they’d got a call from their brother about urgently needing help. Greg frowned as he watched Mycroft look around the vicinity, taking the odd glance at his own phone before making his way to Greg’s car door. 

He slid the window down until Mycroft was stood in front of him, fingers clasped around his phone as though waiting for the alert that usually signalled his brother’s messages.

“I’m surprised Sherlock texted you too at this hour,” Greg said, watching Mycroft offer a small smile as he leaned against the door so they could talk and keep an eye out for Sherlock at the same time.

“Sherlock never texts me about anything, he doesn’t usually let me get involved unless he thinks my security clearance can get him out of a tricky situation. No, I have a tracker and bug on Sherlock’s phone that I don’t think he knows about, when I saw his message to you I thought I’d come down and see what the trouble was,” Mycroft said with the tone of a put upon brother, pushing the phone away after the screen went black again.

“His text made no sense, just mentioned he wanted me to meet him here, no date or time,” Greg shrugged, offering the elder Holmes his phone once it was unlocked and watching Mycroft take it thankfully.

After a while of reading the message, a look of amusement crossed Mycroft’s face causing Greg to look at him uncertainly.

“What? What is it?” 

“It’s…I just never thought I’d see the day my brother would want to set me up,” Mycroft smiled, taking another glance at the message before offering it to Greg.

“What? Where did you get that idea?” Greg asked, his skin flushing a little at the fact he’d been used like a pawn.

“Gregory, when Sherlock and I were kids we came up with a code of sorts to exchange messages that no-one else could encrypt. Just a few lines of make believe directions and descriptions could speak volumes between the two of us. That text he sent you was intended for me…because he knew you’d never find it,” Mycroft smiled kindly, watching Greg open the message again and his gaze move over the letters obviously trying to find the key.

“I don’t see it.”

“It helps if you only fixate on every second letter.” Mycroft supplied, leaning his hip against the car door as he watched Greg’s gaze move back to the phone’s screen.

Then slowly the message seemed to appear and it made Greg flush even more.

 _‘Mycroft, you and Lestrade just need to do it. This is getting beyond a joke. Ask him out because I’m not doing it for you. Sherlock.’_

“Wow…” Greg murmured, locking the phone and biting his lip as he avoided meeting Mycroft’s gaze.

“I suppose when you have a brother like Sherlock your interest in someone is going to become very obvious, very quickly. Still I’d be lying if I wasn’t the least bit interested in doing as he suggests and asking you out,” Mycroft smiled, reaching his hand into Greg’s car and brushing it against the Inspector’s cheek.

“I…erm…wow. Really?” Greg asked, watching Mycroft bite his lip as he nodded.

“Really. What do you say to us going out for a drink sometime Gregory?” he asked.

“I’d say tonight’s as good a night as any don’t you think?” Greg replied, watching Mycroft smirk in acknowledgment.

“I wholeheartedly agree. Why don’t you follow my lead? I know the best place,” Mycroft said huskily, brushing his thumb tauntingly against Greg’s bottom lip before pulling away and walking back towards his car.

That night between them was filled with expensive drinks that Greg couldn’t afford on his salary but was easily covered by Mycroft’s tab at the Diogenes. Of them kissing out back and feeling like teenagers buzzing with adrenaline and alcohol, it was the perfect night. A night which had started out on a lie but ended up much sweeter.

But then the down side came around their second month together; when Greg came home to find Mycroft packing with his PA Anthea perched on the bed the two of them had been fucking in the night before. Yet she seemed more fixated on speaking to her employer than anything else though it was the way she mentioned an itinerary to Milan and how he needed to speak to Greg that had him just standing there.

Sherlock had always told him that Mycroft was the British government and he was always travelling. At the time it had always explained why Mycroft was always exhausted when Sherlock called him to handle a situation for him, or why sometimes Mycroft would have just asked him to keep an eye on Sherlock before they got together. But the thought of them being apart when they were still so new didn’t bode well with him at all.

“What is it you need to tell me exactly Myc?” Greg asked, breaking the atmosphere as both occupants looked up to see him there. Anthea cast Mycroft a look as she grabbed his packed case and eased her way out the room so they could talk in peace.

“Greg, you know what I do…or at least have some inkling and you understand how important it is. Which is why when I’m gone, like I will be for two months from tonight, We can’t communicate with each other. It would put your safety in jeopardy and you know how important you are to me,” Mycroft said softly, crossing the room to stand in front of him and reaching up to brush a placating hand to Greg’s face though it didn’t reach its target as Greg moved before it could.

“No…no you can’t be serious! I can’t go two months without talking to you! Hell I’ll barely be able to go two months without _seeing_ you! Why didn’t you say something before we got to where we are?” Greg asked, feeling on edge at the thought of not only not seeing his boyfriend but not being able to call him.

“Gregory, you know what I do…Sherlock told me that he told how little I’m in the country and how much I travel. I mean he has an encrypted email address if he needs to speak to me, but he also knows the risks. You are far too important to me, you mean so much more…and it may hurt but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back,” Mycroft soothed; though Greg knew his words were empty and meant to calm him when there was a more likely chance of the opposite.

“No, don’t try and build up my hopes like that. If you have to go then go…but don’t expect me to wait around for you. If I mean that much to you, you would at least try when things are as new as they are. But if all I was was a useful fuck then just go,” Greg said, gesturing listlessly towards the door as he knew it was a fight he was never going to win.

“No you are important to me! You were not just someone I could have just for the sake of having, you must believe me,” Mycroft began, though by then Greg had gone to the kitchen without another word, leaving him to rake his fingers through his hair as he reluctantly left to find Anthea.

That night he left for Milan and Greg had a bed to himself for the first time in two months. He didn’t sleep a wink and knew he wasn’t going to while Mycroft was away.

XOX

It wasn’t the only time he left during their relationship, or what could be construed by some to be a relationship anyway. He’d always come back to Greg’s flat though since the large Holmes house felt empty without his lover in it, but even then he’d be banished to the couch with Lestrade giving him the cold shoulder until he left again. It was a necessary evil sure, but didn’t mean that their relationship wasn’t suffering for the sake of it.

It was their third year together that Mycroft got the offer to take a desk job with less travel and more time in London. But he knew that Greg would never tell him what to do if he asked; that his lover would probably be happy but not to extent that it would fix everything, leaving him to speak to his brother, the one person along with his new roommate Doctor John Watson, who was around Greg when he was gone.

Sherlock had gone to St Bart’s to start doing experiments and the like in the labs since 221b’s land lady Mrs Hudson was getting tired of hiring workmen to fix the results of those experiments. His rent covered it a little but everything else came out of Mycroft’s account since Sherlock still wasn’t the best with his money. Doctor Watson was sitting at a bench on a computer while Sherlock was trying to see how flammable something was with a Bunsen burner, hard to tell if it was for a case or not.

“Mycroft, when did you get back from Dubai?” Sherlock asked, not even looking up from his experiment as his elder brother came into the room; his fingers itching for a cigarette.

“Early this morning, but I had to go to the office so I haven’t seen Gregory yet. Though he is the reason I’m here,” Mycroft said, pushing his hands into his suit pockets as he watched his brother push a scrap of some kind of material into the very heart of the burner’s flames with a set of iron tongs.

"Things between you are still tetchy I take it?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head as the material began to smoke a rather unpleasant smell.

“I got offered the opportunity for a desk job in Whitehall,” Mycroft said, as though that in itself explained everything. Which from the way Sherlock paused and put the tongs and material down on the counter it did.

“And you want to know if you and Lestrade have something worth fighting for to the degree that you’d stay put in one country?” Sherlock asked, turning the collar of the Bunsen burner until the flame went orange and looking at his brother.

“To some degree. We barely speak when I’m here and if I leave I told him not to contact me so it feels like things between us are at a crossroads. Do I continue to make him unhappy by continuing with this job that takes me away from him the vast majority of the year or do I take this job and hope I can fix what I’ve broken?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock frowned and looked at John who seemed to see what his lover was saying as he sighed and put his laptop down to approach the elder brother.

“Let’s go get some air Mycroft. Sherlock, try not to set the place on fire while I’m gone.” John said, sliding off his stool and leading the way from the lab.

John waited until they were in the park outside St Bart’s and Mycroft had a cigarette lit between his fingers before speaking.

“So you and Greg still aren’t talking because of your absence?” John asked, watching the elder Holmes take a well needed puff of his cigarette.  


“He knew what he was getting into…. _Sherlock_ told him what he was getting into before we even started dating. I suppose it just didn’t hit him until I was going…which is understandable when I spent that first two months coming up with alternative staff to take my place,” Mycroft said, the two starting to walk the path at a slow pace.

“But you haven’t talked?”

“He won’t. Every time I come home he’s working on a case or staying at a friend’s and on the times I’m home and he’s there he just….blanks me. Won’t say anything, won’t sit beside me, won’t let me sleep in his bed and try to make it up to him. Just, blanks me like I’m still not there,” Mycroft sighed.

“But what about if you took the job? You’d be home more, you’d be able to speak to him and maybe fix things but it could also be that the damage between you is irreparable. That you being around after so long of not being might make it worse instead of better. The only thing you can do is slowly ease yourself back into it. If you take the job move back into your own house, start dating him again…try and show him that what you feel for him hasn’t changed. It might be the only chance you have,” John said with a sad smile though Mycroft knew he was right. 

They’d been new and only together two months before he left for Milan, they needed to at least try and start over before Greg finally called it quits.

He thanked John and watched the doctor go to grab drinks for his brother, before calling the office and accepting the post. Then he took a car to Greg’s and began to pack his things.

Greg came home while he was packing but didn’t acknowledge it, like he didn’t every other time Mycroft packed for his next trip in the past. It left him feeling hollow and in pain as he grabbed everything of his he’d accumulated at Greg’s flat and walked out even if the urge to tell Greg he was staying was on the tip of his tongue.

Instead of texting Greg the day after his new contract was signed, Mycroft arranged to meet him at the Diogenes, the place of their first date. He didn’t hear anything from Greg and began to wonder if he was working or just not going to come. But soon the man turned up, looking solemn and walking with the body language of someone on death row.

Greg sat opposite him at the table, phone on the table in case he was called during their date and eyed up the champagne bottle sat between them.

“Are we celebrating something I don’t know about?” Greg asked, though the fact he still considered them together was a breath of fresh air to Mycroft’s lungs. 

“Yes. Although that can probably wait for a moment as I think we need to talk after months of not doing so don’t you?” Mycroft asked, watching Greg’s face shut down and his gaze move to his phone as though silently praying for an excuse to leave. 

“And whose fault was it that we weren’t speaking?” Greg asked, gaze still elsewhere even as Mycroft swallowed.

“You know there’s a reason why we don’t, you know how dangerous our jobs are and you know that I would never forgive myself if I was out the country and something happened to you. It’s best Gregory, it pains me as much as it does you but it is for the best,” Mycroft said softly, resting a hand on Greg’s and watching the other man’s hand clench in the table cloth as he battled with the internal fight of staying or leaving.

“Then why aren’t you elsewhere instead of here like I know you prefer to be?” Greg asked, his fingers slackening but his gaze still on his phone.

“Because I’ve got a promotion that means I wouldn’t be out the country as much as I was,” Mycroft said, watching his lover’s gaze finally move the phone to rest on his face.

“What?” Greg asked, his eyes widened in surprise and shock as he let the news sink in. Like it had been something he had been secretly wishing to hear for so long but was sure was still a fantasy.

“It’s still with Whitehall…but actually _in_ Whitehall. I’ll be responsible for collecting and decrypting data from our operatives while keeping an eye on internal security surveillance. It’ll still be hard with long hours but it means that I get to stay here with you. That we might finally get a chance to start over with less silence and sleepless nights,” Mycroft said, flashing his lover a smile as he grabbed one of the two glasses of pre-poured champagne and offered it to Greg.

“I…When did you agree to this? I get the feeling you kind of did it without asking me first,” Greg said suspiciously, ignoring the glass.

“I spoke to John and Sherlock, but I knew if I asked you you’d never admit that it was what you wanted. That you’d put up with whatever made me happy and I can’t do that any more Gregory. I’ve missed out on months of sharing a bed with you, hours of fucking you and minutes of kissing you. I honestly felt like I was at breaking point by us continuing to go on the way we were. So I took a risk…I took the job…and I want us to try and get back on track. I know it’s going to be hard and it’s going to take some time but, whatever I feel for you I just can’t ignore any more,” Mycroft said, watching a small smile cross Greg’s face the kind that he hadn’t seen since back when they were first dating. 

It was a sight he missed and reassured him that he’d done the right thing.

He watched Greg take a glass from him, brushing his fingertips teasingly against his knuckles as he did so and felt a kiss be pressed to his cheek that seemed to ease the anxiety and uncertainty. That ignited his blood after not being around this man he wanted for so long, but two simple words seemed to assure him that they were strong enough to get past this.

“Congratulations, Mycroft.”

XOX

That had been two years ago, the previous year they’d spent Christmas together in Greg’s flat while Sherlock took John to meet their parents. It was bad enough having to introduce your other half you’d been keeping secret from your parents but it was even worse when your younger brother brought his boyfriend home at the same time. They’d enjoyed just being together since the Police had got Dimmock to cover Greg’s shift and Anthea had been keeping an eye on things at Mycroft’s end.

But this year was different, Greg could feel it in the way Mycroft had come home one night from work looking a little uncertain and more dishevelled than he usually was. He was quieter than he normally was, bringing their dinner from a Turkish Takeaway on the way from Whitehall and going to change while Greg put his papers on his desk and grabbed utensils and plates.

They were sat on the sofa watching the news and eating with a bottle of wine between them when he saw Mycroft bite his lip instead of touching his food. It wasn’t uncommon as sometimes Sherlock’s remarks about Mycroft’s weight would get to him still, even if he had an other half that loved him fiercely, but he’d never seen Mycroft acting like this.

“Myc you ok? You’ve barely touched your food,” Greg asked with a frown, when his plate was empty and Mycroft’s still full.

“Hmm, oh yeah. It’s nothing,” Mycroft smiled, though he put the plate aside and grabbed his glass to down a large mouthful.

“I find that hard to believe somehow. Now what’s up?” Greg asked, picking his own glass up by the neck and leaning back into his seat with one hand rested on Mycroft’s thigh.

“You know last year how Mummy wanted us to come to Christmas…but we put it off because of John and Sherlock?” Mycroft asked, watching Greg nod understandingly as he slid his hand into the other. “Well she wants us to come this year…with Sherlock and John there.” 

“I don’t see the problem. Of course your parents will want both their children and their other halves there,” Greg frowned.

“Yes but it’s the first time they are meeting you! I don’t want Sherlock there making snide remarks about my diet or how there was a reason I’d been keeping you hidden from them so long. I just wanted one Christmas where everything wasn’t bound to go wrong,” Mycroft sighed, swirling his wine distractedly.

“There’s nothing to say it’ll go wrong. John has a good hold over Sherlock not to mention your mother from what I’ve heard. I swear it’ll be fine Myc, now finish your dinner and I’ll help get your mind off it,” Greg smiled, bringing his hand up to his lips.

Mycroft smiled in kind, though didn’t return to his meal and wasn’t the least bit reassured even as his lover took him to bed.

XOX

They left for the Holmes’ house the day before Christmas Eve, one of Mycroft’s drivers at the wheel while the pair sat in the back. Greg finishing up some paperwork of cover for New Year’s eve and Mycroft texting away with Anthea to double check things. The only thing that really showed they were on holiday was their clothes and the way their free hands were clasped together in the seat between them.

They soon arrived to the sight of Mycroft’s parents stood on the doorstep despite the fact it was freezing cold, waiting for them. Sherlock and John were watching the two from the lounge windows as the driver unpacked their luggage and Mycroft led Greg towards his parents.

“Mummy, Dad, this is Greg Lestrade my boyfriend. Greg, My Mum and Dad.” Mycroft said, a formal kind of tone in his voice though both Holmes’ seemed to ignore it more than used to their son’s ways. 

Mrs Holmes engulfed Greg in a tight hug while Mr. Holmes grabbed their luggage to take inside, calling out to Sherlock to come and help. His younger brother wasn’t the least bit happy but did so with a sigh, taking Mycroft’s case since the elder Holmes didn’t trust his son with their other guest’s. A wise move where Mycroft was concerned. 

Mrs Holmes led the two into the house with Mycroft being dragged along behind them by his hand still in Greg’s, relieved when they were inside.

The house was dressed to the nines for Christmas as it always had been during Mycroft’s youth and university years. He was sometimes still surprised that they bothered on those years that both he and Sherlock had to stay in London but their Mother loved the season and their Father would do anything to make her happy. The tree sat in the corner of the lounge, the rows of Christmas cards and paper chains that the two boys had made at boarding school pinned over the fire place even if the colour co-ordination was all wrong; the fire roaring. The TV was playing some Christmas special movie which John was watching with interest, his hand clasped tightly in Sherlock’s as though hoping to keep him still for a while. Though his younger brother was giving Mycroft a knowing look that the elder Holmes didn’t like the look of.

Greg had been dragged by his mother into the kitchen to get to know him more, and though ordinarily Mycroft would have gone to save his lover he knew he could handle himself. The last thing Mycroft wanted to hear was his Mother’s embarrassing stories about Mycroft in his youth or pry more than necessary into Greg’s failed marriage. Their father seemed to be over seeing the preparations for the Christmas Eve feast this year which Mycroft really hoped was something sensible.

“You want to sit down Mycroft?” John asked, alerting Mycroft to the fact he was just hovering in the middle of the room but he couldn’t seem to get settled. Something about having Greg actually in his family home made this real and what he was planning even realer.

“No, thanks John. Sherlock you want to come and help me out in the back garden?” Mycroft asked, sliding a packet of cigarette’s just visible to the top of his jacket pocket so his brother could see before he could object. He watched Sherlock’s eyes widen at the sight and he was out his chair before John could so much as let go of him.

“Whoa hold on a minute!” John called to Sherlock, Mycroft leaving the two to speak while he went to tell Greg where he was going.

He found him helping to make mince pies with his mother, a domestic kind of scene but there was a bright smile on his face and he looked like he belonged there. He paused from rolling out the pastry to flush a little under Mycroft’s gaze as the elder Holmes rested his hands on his waist.

“You’re looking rather at home there,” Mycroft murmured into his ear causing Greg to bite his lip.

“Just helping your Mum that’s all, it’s surprising what you can learn about your other half while making mince pies,” Greg grinned slyly; Mycroft narrowing his eyes in the direction of his mother.

“What? He wanted to know what you were like as a kid! I wasn’t going to not tell him everything! It’s a parent’s duty,” Mrs Holmes beamed, Mycroft sighing as he pressed a kiss to Greg’s neck.

“I’m going out back to shove the path with Sherlock, Mother. Call us in when the coffee’s made,” Mycroft said, pushing his hands into his coat pocket as Sherlock whizzed through the kitchen to open the back door.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to get him to do that but fine,” Mrs Holmes said suspiciously, her gaze following her elder son as he followed Sherlock out the door.

Mycroft pulled out the cigarettes once they were down the side of the garage at the very end of the back garden. It had been the space they used to use to smoke out their parents view when they were teenagers and still seemed to work even now. Sherlock had his hands buried into his coat pockets, stomping his feet in the snow to keep warm but gladly took a cigarette when he was offered.

“Call it your Christmas Eve Eve present,” Mycroft sighed when Sherlock gave him an uncertain look, pushing a cigarette between his own lips before pulling out his silver plated lighter from his other pocket.

“I’m guessing this isn’t because the Christmas spirit decided to possess you suddenly,” Sherlock said with a raised eyebrow, as Mycroft lit both their cigarettes before pushing the lighter back into his pocket.

“More to do what I know you found while snooping in my suitcase,” Mycroft agreed, leaning against the wall of the garage and taking a deep puff.

“I never thought you were much of the sentimental type that’s all Mycroft. I mean, asking him isn’t going to make the two of you any more serious than you already are after five years of being together,” Sherlock said, letting out a big cloud of smoke as he tipped the ash off the end with his leather clad fingers into the snow.

“I find it hard to believe that there won’t come a day where you’ll be considering doing the same thing with John. He worships the ground you walk on, loves the bones of you, puts up with your bullshit and you live together. You have to want more than just fucking around between cases,” Mycroft sighed, rubbing the heel of his numb hand against his forehead after taking another puff.

“And maybe there will, but not right now. After what happened with him and Mary he’s off marriage for quite a while. Besides he knows how I feel, I show him how I feel every time we’re together and I would willingly put myself between him and a gun in a heart beat. I don’t need a ring to prove that,” Sherlock said, letting another cloud of smoke out between his chapped lips.

“Maybe not. But I do. I almost lost Greg those three years we barely spoke. We’ve only just managed to get back to a place where I feel completely committed to him. That I would gladly commit to him as long as he’ll have me. He’s divorced, he loves me and it seems like the next logical step. Doesn’t mean I’m not still scared to hell though,” Mycroft said uncertainly, staring into the grey sky that seemed to promise more snow before the day was over.

“Well however you do it, whenever you do it, I can tell you now that it won’t be the answer you’re fearing. He loves you so much it’s kind of sickening and if you do put a ring on his finger he’ll be down right unbearable. But you’ll both be happy and you have me to thank for it,” Sherlock smirked, Mycroft standing on his toes to shut him up.

“Boys, you’re supposed shovelling isn’t fooling anyone! Put those cigarettes out and get your asses back in this house!” Mrs Holmes’ voice called from the bottom of the garden, both men dropping their cigarette’s in shock and stubbing them out with their shoes before reluctantly retreating from their hiding place.

XOX

The Holmes brothers spent the evening doing the washing up as a punishment for their smoking since both were supposed to be quitting, leaving their other halves to chatter with their parents. Yet as Greg and John went to bed they kissed their other half on the cheek on the way; leaving the brothers helping with the rest of the prep for the next day.

Christmas Eve was filled with doing little, aside from walking around the countryside and Greg seemed to be permanently attached to their mother’s side. John was trying to get Sherlock more enthusiastic by bribes every half mile so the two were practically running it; leaving Mycroft walking with his father in a silence between the two that wasn’t uncomfortable.

But soon Mycroft felt his father’s gaze on his face and turned to meet it with a feeling of unease.

“So, you and Greg seem to have been together a long time…considering we only met him this year,” His father asked, his hands pushed in his coat.

“Yes, well with my job it was easier to keep things quiet for safety. Then…I got the new job and you guys were meeting John. It seemed easier to wait till this year,” Mycroft said.

“Despite the fact we were in London at least once a year on those years you were together?” His father asked with a raised eyebrow that reminded Mycroft of Sherlock.

“I wasn’t about to push him to meet the two of you if I wasn’t in the country to introduce you. And before you ask I don’t trust Sherlock not to wind up Greg when they are alone,” Mycroft sighed.

“So aside from Sherlock introducing us to John I have a feeling there was a reason you actually wanted us to meet him this year,” His father asked, a stream of white coming from between his lips with every word.

“Has Sherlock told you…?” Mycroft asked, hoping and praying that his younger brother wouldn’t be so callous but from the look on his father’s face he had no idea what he was talking about.

“Told me what? I was just curious. You usually have a double meaning behind introducing someone Mycroft, I’m your father I know how you tick, remember?” His father said, a knowing look which had usually managed to pry the truth out of Mycroft in his youth.

“Ok, I’m going to propose and I wanted to know what you and Mum thought of him before I do,” Mycroft sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Wow, I thought a lot of things but that definitely wasn’t on the list. Still from where I’m standing Greg is a good man and you deserve each other. I’m sure your mother would be thrilled if you ended up engaged to him, but try not to let our opinions sway your decision to propose. Do it because you want to not because you feel you have anything to prove,” His Father said wisely, though there was a smile on his lips at the news.

“I know Dad, and thanks. I really do feel like the luckiest man alive when I’m around him,” Mycroft smiled, as the sound of Sherlock shrieking as John threw a snowball down the back of his shirt echoed around them.

XOX

By the end of Christmas Eve, after the feast that had most of the party wondering if they would ever be able to move again in their lives, John and Sherlock had gone to bed early after Sherlock complained that wearing just his underwear and robe was humiliating when Greg wouldn’t stop laughing. Their parents had gone to bed hours ago since the preparation for Christmas dinner was going to start early, leaving Mycroft and Greg laying on the couch watching the odd Christmas movie while flicking between channels.

It was fairly quiet in the cottage, with the odd crackling of the wood that Mycroft had put on the fire and the clicking of phone keys as they both checked in with their staff for anything they needed to be made aware of. But more than anything there was a sense of peace, of Greg’s body reclining against Mycroft’s with his head nestled against Mycroft’s neck sleepily. A throw was covering the two of them and Mycroft was using it as an excuse to wrap around Greg and pull him even closer, lazily exchanging kisses.

“Ummm, Ok I think we should go to bed now,” Greg murmured, trying to pull away despite Mycroft peppering kissing down his jawline and neck teasingly.

“No...not yet,” Mycroft whispered against his skin, as he slid his free hand into his jeans pocket. The ring box had been kept there since they came back from the walk, waiting for the perfect opportunity for him to do it. This was definitely the best time.

“But I’m tired…and we’ll probably be up early anyway,” Greg murmured, though he got distracted by another kiss and willingly let it be deepened with tongue and teeth until his arms were wrapped around Mycroft’s neck to keep him close.

“I have something important to ask you,” Mycroft whispered, resting his forehead against Greg’s and watching his lover’s eyes move to the hand holding the box and widen as it appeared from under the throw.

“Myc…” Greg murmured hoarsely, watching Mycroft take one of his hands in his and peck a kiss to his knuckles.

“Gregory Lestrade, I have loved you from the moment I first set eyes on you. I knew that you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with; the man who was stubborn enough to hang around even when I wasn’t there half as much as I should have been. When I should have been fighting for _us_ instead of my job. All those nights I spent without you, I just knew if I was given a second chance I wouldn’t let you go,” Mycroft smiled softly, opening the ring box and taking the Sterling Silver Knot ring from the velvet. 

Greg’s lips moved silently as though he was struggling with what to say, though his hand still remained in Mycroft’s grip letting it be guided towards the ring.

“I got that second chance the moment I took that new job; the moment you congratulated me instead of calling it quits, the moment you kissed me and took me back after days of silence. That’s why, Gregory Lestrade, would you give me the greatest gift I could ever imagine of being my husband?” Mycroft asked, his voice cracking a little as his gaze moved from the ring to Greg’s eyes.

The other man looked amazed beyond belief, his lips open and gaze rested on the ring. But finally he seemed to come back to his senses with a blinding smile as he said the words Mycroft had been waiting for.

“Of course I will!” 

Mycroft beamed brightly as he slid the ring up Greg’s finger and pulled his Fiancé’s lips to his, sucking on his bottom lip as he threw the empty box aside and manoeuvred Greg’s willing body on to his back on the sofa. His lips continuing to indulge every piece of bare skin that was revealed and hands to caress like the other man was made of the rarest porcelain known to man. 

It was the best gift he could have asked for that Christmas he thought to himself as they laid together under that throw, completely naked and indulging in the moment. Neither of them fixating on the fact that they would be found the next morning as they fell asleep to dreams of their future together.

Fin.


End file.
